


about a girl

by IrisParry



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, shippy if you want it to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 14:31:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisParry/pseuds/IrisParry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My father said the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword,” a girl told him, and her eyes burned like nightfires. “I want to swing the sword for Joffrey. You have to help me get to him.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	about a girl

**Author's Note:**

> Quick drabble written for a tumblr prompt. Shippy if you want it to be.

“Is it _Joffrey?”_

A man thought he knew what a girl wanted, there before the old white-faced god. A man hears, a man knows: had heard her pray to the Many-Faced God at night, knew the will behind her mouse’s voice, which names it was blackest for.

A man felt her hatred, felt that soon he would have his chase and his art and the red god would have his due. 

Then he felt her harden like steel, saw her stick out her pointed chin as if she would defy a god as easily as a man.

“My father said the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword,” a girl told him, and her eyes burned like nightfires. “I want to swing the sword for Joffrey. You have to help me get to him.”

“You wish to swing the sword, then swing,” a man shrugged. “Name yourself a name. Swing strong and true. A man will have another name, and he will pay his debt himself.”

A girl scowled, narrowed her grey eyes, and the wheels turned in her pretty head. A man did not like it.

She named a name, this wolf with a girl’s face, a name that should have been long forgotten; pressed hands to a man’s chest and growled it into his ear, and then a man was hers.

A girl gave the gift to two men on the way out of the postern gate, silent as a shadow. A man wondered how much help she needed after all.

*

A girl learns fast. The road is long, the gifts are many, and soon a man does not know how to reckon what is owed one to the other, and that death she asked for comes closer. 

*

Two come to a city on fire, a pyre of gods, a people blinking their eyes in a smoke that will not clear. A king dead and queens fighting for life, and a wolf-shape hole that near drives a girl to madness, staining the keep red as it’s name. 

A girl is … frightening, sometimes. 

_I am no-one,_ she whispers in the dark, when the day’s running is done, and she lies. She is Arya Stark, deep in her bones, and if a man is not careful he will remember the storms battering against a father’s roof on Lorath, will smile at the long-past utterings of brothers he never had, and he will be Jaqen H’ghar for her. He is no-one. _I am no-one._


End file.
